


Complete Control

by spicy_stockings



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, BDSM, Dirty Talk, F/M, Femdom, Impact Play, Mild Cousin Incest, Mild Painplay, Other, Power Exchange, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Spanking, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 11:57:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19440988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicy_stockings/pseuds/spicy_stockings
Summary: When Kate Miller-Heidke is ceremonially presented with the Mallet of Anti-Capitalism at Eurovision, she begins to reevaluate many of the things she thought she wasn't capable of. After all, who would dare say no to the Queen?





	Complete Control

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this beautiful moment](https://twitter.com/pappagalIi/status/1129459448949432323) in the fight against capitalism. ([See also](https://twitter.com/kmillerheidke/status/1129546602937499648?lang=en).) After I saw that all I could think of was how much I wanted a fic where she dominates all of Hatari. I've fudged the timelines and other details a bit here, and I'm sure Kate goes way too quickly from BDSM 101 to 301, but it's all in the service of ~~the narrative~~ oh who am I kidding, it's for porn.

The moment when she really gets it is when Einar explains the concept of a safeword. 

"Ah," she says, the gears in her brain turning, "So it's like you're in a safe place where you can give up complete control of yourself to another person."

He nods. "Exactly."

"That makes so much sense, because otherwise how would I know if I'd gone too far?" 

She didn't think she was capable of making a tall, muscular Nordic hunk like him blush, but then again she is about to reevaluate many of the things she thought she wasn't capable of.

"So you would want to be in the dominant role, then?" he asks slowly.

"I think so." And the pieces fit together as she says it, as surreal as it is that she's even having this conversation, backstage at Eurovision, in a princess costume, holding a plastic mace, talking to a guy who lives on the other side of the world. "I like that idea of being able to push someone else's pleasure to the limit in that way." And now it's her turn to blush. "The other question I'd have is...is the mask just a stage prop or have you ever used it in real life?"

"It's just a prop," he says, laughing, rubbing the back of his neck, "so far, anyway."

\---

She brings the mace--that is, the Mallet of Anti-Capitalism--to a party they're hosting later. She finds it funny especially while she's still dressed up like a cake topper, and it means that when she arrives, Klemens immediately throws an arm around her shoulders and introduces her to everyone as "Kate, the Queen of Anti-Capitalism."

"How can we truly achieve the end of capitalism if there is still a monarchy?" asks whoever it is that Klemens is introducing her. Klemens starts to say "It is a consensual power exchange," but then Matthías appears and grabs Klemens' arm away as a distraction. 

"Do not touch the queen," Matthías says in that same somber tone of voice he uses both when he's taking the piss in an interview and when he's one hundred percent stone cold serious.

"You're right, it is a consensual power exchange," she says to Klemens, "but he's also right, don't touch the queen!" She whacks him with the mallet, and he says "Yes, your majesty."

And later, after a few (or perhaps several) beverages, she's standing by the toilets and sees Klemens there. He's already got his shirt off and is wearing some contraption of leather straps, because of course he is. And she is staring, and he notices.

"What are you going to do?" he says, tossing his head a bit defiantly.

"Do?"

"Because I touched the queen without her permission," he continues. 

She stares levelly at him for what might be five seconds and might be five minutes, and she thinks she sees in his eyes what she needs to see.

"Don't even _look_ at me without permission, subject," she says, and (the mallet has been abandoned somewhere in a corner) slaps him in the face with her hand.

The flush of red is a glory against his pale skin. He looks at the floor. "I need to talk to Matthías," he says cryptically, and scuttles away.

\---

When Klemens comes back, Matthías in tow, they take her to their hotel room. 

"So, there's meant to be rules here, right?" (Kate may or may not have googled a few things in her own hotel room the night previous.) "The first thing we establish is that as I am your queen, you do not touch me, you do not even look me in the eye without asking permission. The second thing..." Should she go with the boring stuff or the juicy stuff? Boring, must be, or she'll lose her nerve. "The second thing is safewords. If you want something to stop, say, er, 'Eurovision'." 

She got the mallet back and is slapping it against her hand. The two of them are sitting on the bed, looking dutifully at the floor. God, she loves this already and nothing's even happened yet. 

"The third thing is that you'll address me only as Your Highness or Your Majesty." Klemens gives a little huff of breath at that, like he likes it. Okay, good Kate, keep going. "Get off the bed, Klemens, and get on the floor." She swallows. "On your knees."

"I won't do that," he says, raising his head to look her in the eye defiantly. "You won't degrade me like this."

She frowns. "I told you, you have to say Eur--" and then she realizes. He didn't say it, which means--oh, God. _That_ is why there's a safeword. "Peasant," she says, and then she looks over at Matthías, "erm, other peasant. Strip this rebellious peasant of his trousers."

"The queen commands, and we obey," says Matthías with a shrug, and he practically rips Klemens' trousers off of him, easily since they were already riding low on his hips. Klemens is wearing white briefs and she can see he's already starting to get an erection. Well, well. 

"Turn him on his back," she says. Matthías, ever obedient, or maybe wanting to enjoy this moment every bit as much as she does, obeys. Klemens' arse is round and even paler than his face. She does the honors now, pulling down his underwear just enough to expose its plump curves. "Now you see what happens when you disobey the queen," and she smacks him with the mallet. It bounces lightly off of him.

"With your highness's permission," says Matthías slowly, starting to rise. She lets him. He opens the closet, rummages around in a suitcase. He takes out a leather strap. He goes back to the bed, and holds it out, still not looking her in the eye. "Your majesty might have better results with this."

Oh Kate, she thinks to herself. You are in this now. Shit is about to get real.

"What do you get for disobeying me?" she muses out loud. She puts her hand on the back of Klemens' neck to hold him down on the bed. "One stroke for touching me without my permission. One for looking me in the eye. And one-- _two_ for disobedience." She thought she'd be nervous, but instead, she just has a wild feeling of disbelief that she's even here and this is happening. She looks again at Klemens' pretty arse. Okay, she's also very turned on. 

She smacks him with the leather strap. His arse turns bright red where she hit him. She rubs her hand over the red spot, squeezing the curve of him a little bit. Then she smacks him again, harder, making him whimper. That's two. Again, and he squirms out of her way a little, his hands gripping the comforter on the bed. Three. She feels giddy, and hits him again briskly to finish the punishment, and he gives such an absolutely gorgeous moan at that, that she hits him a fifth time just for the hell of it. 

"What was _that_?" he near-squeaks. 

"This isn't a democracy, I make the rules," she says, and starts cupping the cheek of his arse in her hand again, gently stroking where she whipped him. "How do you feel?" she asks.

"It hurts," he says, biting off a laugh. "Good."

"Very good, you take punishment like the filthy slut that you are," she says, trying the words, watching him react--his breath is getting faster, and she thinks he's blushing again. "You're so filthy, and wanton, it's like you're begging for me to do this," and she pushes a finger inside him. Now _that_ makes him really moan out loud. 

"Please," he says. She pushes further into him and makes him say something in Icelandic that she hopes is a curse, rubbing her finger against his prostate. 

She glances over at Matthías. He's sitting on the bed, looking at the floor. "Won't you watch?" she says. He turns to her and she can see he's _bright_ red, blushing to the tips of his ears. 

"If your majesty will allow it."

"Actually, I have a better idea. Why don't you get on your knees and serve your Queen?" 

"He didn't do anything," Klemens points out, "why are you punishing him?"

"Because I do what I want. Why, do you want me to punish you more instead? I can do both." She roughly pushes a second finger into him and makes him yelp. 

Meanwhile, Matthías gets down on his knees. He looks even prettier from this angle. Kate takes her free hand and pulls down her underwear, bunches up her dress around her waist. She spreads her legs wide and exposes herself to Matthías. She's far enough gone at this point that she doesn't think this will take him long. 

"Beautiful," says Matthías, and presses his face up between her legs, "my queen," and pushes his tongue into her, licking her open. 

"Oh fuck," she breathes, rocking her hips into Matthías' face. He starts to move his hand up her leg but she slaps it away. "I said don't touch!" He moans at that and pushes his face closer to her. 

Meanwhile, she's rubbing Klemens' prostate hard now, working the rest of her fingers down to cup his balls. 

"You're going to come for me like the filthy, peasant slut that you are, aren't you?" she coaxes him. She can't last much longer and at that point she'll lose the energy to do anything. "Give your seed to the queen," she commands him, and he does, bucking his hips into the bed, whimpering as she keeps fucking him even past his peak. 

"And now--" She wants to make a demand of Matthías, but her breaths are coming faster, and so she just pulls her fingers out of Klemens, grips Matthías' head in both hands and grinds herself against that pretty mouth of his. She squeezes her heels around his waist, and as he pushes his tongue deeper into her she comes, hard against his face, realizing how much she needed the release.

Her head falls slack, and she remembers to say "Eurovision," and laughs. "I'm done."

"I never made anyone say 'Eurovision' before," says Matthías, breathless. His lips are bright red and shining wet. "Also, am I allowed to get off?"

"No," says Kate, even though technically she isn't making the rules anymore.

"Very good," Matthías says. "Klemens, are you well?"

"I can't get up," he says, but he still rolls onto his back, his come wet all over his pelvis and upper thighs and his soft cock.

Kate lets herself relax, too, leaning her head against Klemens' stomach. She looks around her and then remembers. 

"Where's Einar?"

This provokes a very interesting reaction between Klemens and Matthías. They both suddenly change expressions and look awkwardly at each other. 

"Einar is..." Klemens starts, and then looks helplessly to his cousin.

"You have to be careful with Einar," says Matthías. 

"Careful?"

"He is hardcore," says Klemens. "If you want to find out more you'll have to ask him."

\---

So Kate asks him. 

The contest is over. They're still in Tel Aviv for another day, theoretically enjoying a round of cocktails, but Kate is obsessively scrolling through Instagram comments with her face increasingly burning with anger.

"You have to stop," Einar tells her gently, when he realizes what she's doing.

"How could I stop? You don't deserve this. No one deserves this. They're sending threats. They're saying--"

"Just ignore them. They're trolls." He takes her phone from her hand and looks at the screen, makes a face. "It's pathetic. Now let's talk about _anything_ else."

"Give me back my phone and let's go for a walk," she says.

"Tell me you won't look at any more troll comments."

"I thought I made the rules here," she says, the words from the other night leaping to her throat.

"If you look at troll comments, it will make you a hateful person. These trolls are only trying to make you think the worst of Tel Aviv. People here supported us. Remember that." He closes out of the Instagram app but hands her phone back. "Now about that walk."

They stroll along a quiet street in the blazing summer heat, Einar still defiantly wearing all black. He said talk about anything else. There's only one thing she wants to talk about.

"Klemens said something interesting about you the other night," she says, testing the waters. Einar gives her a suggestive look, raising his eyebrows briefly.

"Which night is that?" So he knows, then. That will make this easier.

"He said I should be careful around you."

Einar laughs out loud. "Now that is poor wording! I'm safe as houses. I'm really a boring person. But yes, there are some things he might know about me that could...give pause."

"Tell me," she says.

"Why should I tell you anything?" It's a teasing question. He has an impish smile on his lips. All she wants is to bury her fingers in that slicked-back hair, but she just stares him down instead.

"The conversation we had the other day," she says. "You know the one. I thought we should pick it up, but now I don't know, if Klemens said--"

His face is serious now. "When we talked the other day, you talked about wanting to know if you had gone too far. That's just it. I can explain a safeword to you, but I don't prefer to use them."

"You...don't?" It doesn't make any sense to her. 

"You said yourself it is a safe place to give up complete control. How do you give up complete control if you can stop everything at any time?"

"That's dangerous!" she nearly shouts, but she's blushing and so is he; Lord, what are they, characters in a soap opera? 

"I haven't used the mask but I usually," he lowers his voice, "use a gag, so I can't speak. You can safeword out--" He clears his throat, clearly a little perturbed at the Freudian slip. "The dominant person can still safeword out. I won't." A sudden flash of an image to her mind, unbidden (okay, maybe a little bit bidden): Einar in nothing but the mask, kneeling to her, giving himself up entirely. 

"All right," she says.

\---

The image is a reality in under thirty minutes. She has him back in her hotel room now, and has ordered him to strip, and then to get down on his hands and knees, and then she feels inspired and ties scarves around his wrists and ankles. He doesn't play defiant subject, but is eager to obey. His huge cock is hanging down between his legs, already erect. She wants to do something to it, so she grabs and tugs at it roughly, eliciting a muffled moan from behind his mask. Then she stands again and looks at him, his broad-shouldered, long-limbed body all hers to be used.

"What will I do with you?" she muses aloud. There isn't much in her room in the way of fetish gear, so she'll have to be creative. She looks around and then looks down. She's wearing platform heels--that will do. She raises one leg and then kicks him square in the arse, knocking him down all the way to the floor on his front. She rolls him over onto his back, watches his cock bob, trailing her eyes over his muscular stomach and chest, and thinks about how she could mark his skin. "Stay here," she says, as if he could do anything else, and kicks him in the side for good measure.

She rummages around in the small bathroom. Her eyes flick briefly over her hair iron and her razor, sending her momentarily reeling at the possibilities, but she isn't ready for that yet. She chooses her makeup bag instead.

"You're mine," she says, "and I want everyone to know it." She freshens up her lipstick, then leans down over Einar and presses a bright red kiss to his chest, right underneath his left nipple. Then she deliberates again for a moment and uses the same lipstick tube to scrawl "SLUT" across his belly. He cranes his neck upward to see what she's written and then laughs, deep in his throat, but his cock is still hard.

Hmm. It's a bit secondary school, but there's one way she could mark him without hurting him. She gets down on her own knees, straddling him, and then bites down hard on his inner thigh, sucking a kiss into his skin. His muscles tense as she does this, so she does it again, on his stomach this time. Then she does the same to his neck. 

She's nearly completely lying atop him now, her body stretched out alongside his, and his erection rubs against her thigh. 

"Now, we can't have that," she says, pushing his cock away as if she's disgusted by it. In reality, she's anything but, of course, but this is the game.

She gets up, rolls him back onto his back, kicks him again. He moans and pushes his hips against the floor, the only way he can get friction while he's all tied up like this.

"You're an animal," she says, "You know that? You're filthy." Somewhere down inside her it shocks her a little that she can be this mean. "All you want is to rub your cock on anything you can find." He nods and whimpers, thrusting his hips again as if to agree.

What else?

Oh, right.

She goes into one of her bags. She had only ever intended to use this vibrator on herself, and she's not sure she'll ever be able to use it again after this, but... She kneels back down behind him.

"Einar," she says teasingly. She slides her dress up over her hips, then takes off her underwear. "Go ahead and look. It's all you'll get."

He cranes his head around, now looking even more uncomfortable. She's kneeling, spreading her legs wide so he can get a good view.

"Do you know what I do with filthy sluts like you?" Not even a lie; there was Klemens just a few days ago: "I fuck you just like you crave. Isn't that right?" He whimpers and nods again. "But I won't even touch you," she adds. Instead of her finger, she slides the vibrator between the cheeks of his arse, rubs it against his entrance. She turns it on. 

Einar makes an exclamation that, if it isn't in Icelandic, might as well be with the mask in the way. 

She pushes the vibrator inside him, and he moans again, gasping underneath his mask. She starts to touch herself now, letting him watch her as he increasingly starts to squirm and move, trying to press himself up against the vibrator. 

Then she stops. She takes off one shoe and grinds the heel into his back. With her other hand, she moves the vibrator inside him, not pushing so hard she'll lose her grip, but hard enough that she knows he can feel it from the way his breaths quicken. 

She keeps at him like this, pushing the vibrator in and out of him, pressing her heel against him hard enough that she thinks it may bruise, until his breaths are coming rapidly, his chest heaving and--

She stops.

"Did you think I would let you come? Ha." She laughs and leaves him there on the floor for just a moment. Then she gets up and starts to walk away. He watches with wide eyes as she starts to leave, letting him imagine the scenarios of her leaving him alone there, all tied up, a vibrator up his arse, possibly for housekeeping to find.

She makes it to the door and then collapses laughing. It's mostly relief. "All right, I'm done. I'm done."

She removes the vibrator and the scarves, and he takes off the mask. He sits up on the floor, still half-hard, laughing too. The lipstick on his chest and stomach is completely smeared.

"How did I do?" she says.

"You have to tie the scarves better next time," he says. "I could get out of that." She must look disappointed because he adds, "But I think you can see how well you did," and gestures at his groin. 

She leaps into his arms and kisses him, a gentle kiss which quickly turns into a deeper one. Just as quickly, they both remember she's not wearing underwear, and in a few moments he's inside her, pressing her up against the bed. "I think," she gasps, "I might just let you come after all."

He softly bites the side of her neck. "At this point there isn't much you could do that would stop me."

"Except if I said no."

"Except if you said no."

She says yes. And yes. And yes.

\---

They go their separate ways, of course. It's what makes this whole thing so bittersweet. Like the camping and backpacking trips of her youth: a week or two of bonding and unity and friendships that are closer than they would otherwise be thanks to a boost from alcohol.

But Kate is leaving with more than just memories. She has a new title, of course. A plastic mallet. A ninth-place Eurovision finish. And a lot of wicked ideas.

- _Hello boys,_ she sends to her group WhatsApp chat with Klemens, Matthías, and Einar. - _A quick question. How many things can you think of to do with a hair iron and a cartridge razor?_


End file.
